Invincible
by unknownsoldier42
Summary: Heroes, no matter how strong, can never truly be invincible.
1. Prologue

Title: Invincible

Author: Unknownsoldier42

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Own not. Profit not. Sue not.

Summary: In the end, no matter how much she didn't want to, she'd said no. Unable to stand, to breathe, and completely overwhelmed with fear she'd cried out. Like a weakling.

A/N: JAG crossover

* * *

Staring at the nauseatingly familiar oatmeal colored walls Temperance flexed her foot and counted her breaths until a pang of agony blossomed and shot all the way up to settle hotly behind her ears. She ground her teeth together, fighting her damndest not to give in as she continued to move her foot against the pain. A tortured moment later she surrendered, tears slipping free as she sagged back against the pillows. Rather than defeat she felt a swell of triumph overtake the self-pity she'd been wallowing in. Even bed ridden she could still fight. A small victory is, after all, still a victory. This was one thing she could do to aid her recovery, at this point everything else hurt too much to even consider. She had known, of course, that it was bad before she'd even passed out the first time, knew each bone broken with each blow - but now, confined to a hospital bed, she was just beginning to understand just how comprehensive the damage truly was - and how lucky she was to simply be beaten. Effectively immobilized sucked, but it was better than dead.

_Bastard_, she hissed internally, thumped a fist down onto the mattress, and started to work on her other foot, watching her wiggling painted toes wave sadly.

The memory had surfaced, slowly at first, fractured images and sounds a plague on her weary mind. There were splashes of color, blurs, almost like one of Angela's abstract paintings. One image continued to elude both her conscious and unconscious remembrances, skirting on the edge of her mind. It was driving her absolutely crazy, she couldn't stand that her mind, her greatest tool, the best weapon in her vast arsenal, was the problem. The other elements were so vibrant that she could still feel each blow, still taste the copper of her own blood. Insignificant details that were keeping her awake, but not nearly as paralyzing as knowing that something was missing in the big picture. Of course every time she managed to remember a new piece she immediately wished she could forget it. He came at her again and again, waking terrors that left her exhausted - and they were only memories. It was like he was beating her all over again.

When she happened upon the enigma floating around in the muddled depths of her concussed genius she regretted wanting to know so badly. The shame rose with the bile in her throat and the tears in her eyes because she could remember now, crying out, just once, begging him to stop.

How pitiable she'd sounded saying "No."

No, not really said, more like whimpered, like a child. This was not the first time in her life someone had raised a hand to her. God knows she'd been injured far worse, but to say no?

Temperance Brennan was stubborn and strong. She prided herself on that and the fact that she was truly independent. She was more than capable of taking care of herself; she didn't need anyone for anything. He'd caught her unaware and in that brief moment of weakness on her part, well, that was all the window of opportunity he needed. In the end, no matter how much she didn't want to, she'd said no. Unable to stand, to breathe, and completely overwhelmed with fear she'd cried out. Like a weakling. She had betrayed herself in an unrecognizable sob of a plea. One word: No. It echoed inside her head, bouncing and clamoring like a church bell in a belfry. Over and over, just like his blows had fallen on her, over and over. When it reverberated in her skull she felt helpless all over again, unable to escape from her mind. She knew from experience that the hazy resonance drumming between her ears would haunt her far longer than the scars or bruises ever could.

* * *

TBC


	2. Pain Pt 1

Title: Invincible  
Author: Unknownsoldier42  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: Own not. Profit not. Sue not.  
Summary: In the end, no matter how much she didn't want to, she'd said no. Unable to stand to breathe, and completely overwhelmed with fear she'd cried out. Like a weakling.  
A/N: JAG Crossover

* * *

She'd been staring at the computer screen for what seemed like an eternity now, her forehead pinched, lips pursed, trying to get what was in her head to translate smoothly onto the tauntingly blank page. Temperance finally sighed in exasperation and pulled away from the monitor, fingers reaching to alleviate the pressure building in her temples and behind her eyes while she glared at the blinking cursor. On the desk her phone came to life, the screen lit up and a happy little noise alerted her to a new text message. A tired smile curved her lips as she plucked up the little device.

He'd only been gone for three days – some big conference in Dallas – but it felt like he'd been gone for a month already. She wrinkled her nose as she realized the passage of time cannot actually be longer than it is and to think so was dumb. As she read his message however that indescribable feeling rose up again and three days turned into three weeks.

Booth's text was simple, as always, a short 'I want pie' that said more to her than a million 'I miss you' messages ever could. A familiar pang of longing bounced around in her chest and turned her smile bittersweet as she tapped out a reply. 'Me too'.

She put the blackberry back down and let her head fall back against the top of the chair, hands over her eyes. It wasn't as late as some of her work nights occasionally went, especially when he was gone, but she was tired and his constant text messaging just made the loneliness worse.

A knock on her doorframe startled her briefly, she managed not to yelp as she twitched hard and her head swiveled to take in the intruder. She relaxed with a heavy exhale when she saw the familiar and welcome guest. "You're late," she scolded, a short laugh neutralizing any venom in the reprimand.

"Sorry Tempe," the lawyer smiled.

"Mac," Temperance sat up straighter in her chair, arching her back until her L3 popped and waved the other woman in.

Lieutenant Colonel Sarah 'Mac' MacKenzie stepped into the dimly lit office, looking about like the anthropologist felt. She moved stiffly, her crisp class A olive green uniform molded tightly to her frame in a way that, while flattering on her petite figure, looked uncomfortable.

"I come bearing coffee," she said and offered the drink carrier. Temperance eyed the cup warily, having known the Marine officer for a couple of years she knew the kind of coffee the woman preferred - black, burnt, and strong enough to fuel a tank.

"Is it Marine style coffee or something more suitable for human consumption?" She asked but lifted a cup anyway, sniffing the air around the opening cautiously, as though the fumes might harm her.

Mac snorted and dropped gracefully into a chair facing the desk. "It's Starbucks, so I think you'll survive."

Brennan smiled a little more warmly and sipped some of the hot beverage, nearly groaning aloud at the heavenly taste of a fresh cup of coffee. "So, Petty Officer Bedke?"

Mac nodded and reached for her side, frowning when her hand came into contact with just the chair and empty air.

"Did I not bring my briefcase in?"

Temperance shook her head and chuckled at the annoyed look that spread across her friends pretty face. "What do you need it for? The bones are here in the lab."

"I've got some other notes that I need and I'd like to have my files handy," Mac sighed and stood with a well practiced sharp motion. Cover already in one hand, keys in the other she jerked her head towards the Jeffersonian's front entrance, "I'll be right back," she promised. Temperance grinned and shook her head, listening to the distant fast clicks of Mac's military issue heels as she strode away on the hard floors.

Her blackberry chirped again, she snatched it up and laughed out loud at Booth's reply. Moving to sit on the couch, eyes glued to the phone and fingers tracing her bottom lip she failed to notice another being looming in her doorway.

She looked up just in time to see the first swing of the baseball bat.

* * *

Sarah MacKenzie cursed again as she locked her Corvette once again. Briefcase in hand she raced back to the museum entrance as fast as possible in heels and a skirt. She rushed through the front doors with a wave up at the security camera, not noticing that the blinking red light was no longer blinking.

As she moved across the lab, wincing at the loudness of her shoes, what she did notice that Temperance' lights were out. She slowed to a stop, an eerie sensation working its way over her. Harm made fun of her for it, but she could feel it, something was off, her body was screaming danger.

She approached the door more cautiously, grip turning on the briefcase handle so she could more easily use it as a weapon if needed. Mac slipped out of her shoes and padded forward on bare feet, the linoleum was cold against her stocking clad toes.

Her hand shook slightly as she placed her palm flat on her friends' door. She took a deep breath and shoved.

"Oh my God," was all she could say as she gaped at the destruction of the normally pristine space. Books were scattered, glass was strewn about, the desk was flipped over, computer components were shattered on the floor, drawers had been turned over, and in the middle of the floor, on top of what used to be the coffee table was the broken body of Temperance Brennan.

"Temperance!" Mac cried and leapt into action, nimbly dodging glass and debris she dropped next to her friend, a thready pulse fluttered against her fingertips, but the anthropologist didn't move and when Mac drew her hand away her fingers were wet with blood. "Shit, shit, shit," she chanted and opened her briefcase to fish out her cell phone. "Tempe? Tempe, I need you to wake up. Come on, give me a sign here."

She smeared red across the keypad as she punched in 9-1-1, "Let's go Dr. Brennan, let me know that genius is still in there."

"_911 please state the nature of your emergency_."

* * *

TBC


	3. Pain Pt 2

Title: Invincible  
Author: Unknownsoldier42  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: Own not. Profit not. Sue not.  
Summary: In the end, no matter how much she didn't want to, she'd said no. Unable to stand, to breathe, and completely overwhelmed with fear she'd cried out. Like a weakling.  
A/N: JAG crossover

* * *

"Mac."

Sarah MacKenzie lifted her head from between her palms to meet Harm's eyes. She couldn't even muster the energy to smile for him, settling instead for a "Hey," of greeting.

"Hey," he said softly and collapsed into the seat beside her. "How is she?"

She sighed and let her weight fall over towards him, her head to rest on his shoulder, knowing his strength would hold her up. It always did. The smell of his fabric softener and cologne was as comforting as his warmth, she closed her eyes. "Same. They gave her some drugs and uh, she's sleeping."

"Oh," Harm slipped his arm around her, holding her more securely, for her comfort or his neither knew.

"I called Booth," Sarah confessed tiredly. His frantic voice wouldn't leave her alone and only brought back the image of Temperance lying broken and bleeding on the floor. The lawyers light frame shuddered and her partners arm tightened on her.

"Good," he nodded, hand rubbing her arm.

"He's catching the first flight out, which means he should probably be here any minute now." She was not looking forward to that, having been in his position multiple times she did not relish seeing it played out by another party. "Harm, I only left her for a second, just a second to get my briefcase from the car." Pulling away from him was hard but she needed to see his face, his eyes. He looked rumpled and tired, dark hair flat against his head, eyes cloudy, his Annapolis sweatshirt and jeans a sharp contrast to his uniform. But even tired she could see truth in those baby blues of his.

"It's not your fault," He soothed. "I know that, Mac. So will Booth."

His palm slid over the top of her nearby hands, he squeezed them tenderly and she bent back to his shoulder, relieved. They lapsed into silence, his hand still grasping both of hers, the other soothing up and down her back.

"Harm, Mac," Booth's worn and choked voice jerked both attorneys to their feet immediately. Harm sheepishly relaxed after snapping to the position of attention out of habit.

"Booth," Sarah was much more at ease with the Special Agent, having spent more time with both him and Temperance. She hugged the obviously distraught man briefly, before falling back close to Harm's side.

"I – How's Bones?"

Sarah blinked, still not used to his nick name for her friend; Harm's hand was warm where it pressed against her spine encouragingly. "Well, um, she has a concussion and some broken ribs." She spoke softly, wishing she could read the flashes of emotion on his face like she could Harm's.

"Okay," he nods and runs the back of his hand across his mouth, gaze lost in the distance down the hallway for a moment before they re-focused back on her. "Okay, you said so on the phone, no change since then?"

She shook her head, "No, not at all."

"Does she – does she remember it? Did she tell you what happened?" He sounded so smothered and defeated she had to resist the temptation to hug him again. Her heart broke a little for him, for them both. _Why wasn't I there_?

"No, nothing, she didn't even know what day it is." The lawyer in her wanted to be diplomatic and gentle, while the Marine screamed for honesty, the truth above all else, no matter how painful. Sarah rubbed at her forehead to ease the headache and opted to just be Mac. "She's going to be okay, Booth."

Booth scrubbed at his face with both hands, coughing a sob into his palms before letting them drop to his sides like they were useless. She knew he was feeling and thinking that he was just as worthless. She'd been there.

Harm reached out to steady the other man but Booth shrugged him off, though there was no fire to it. "Room number," he requested, looking only at her.

"305," Sarah said and pointed to the door just a few feet away.

The hopeless feeling agent gathered his composure with remarkable speed, stiffening his spine and setting his jaw he left Harm and Mac standing there. His stride as he walked away told Sarah everything that neither Booth nor Temperance would or could ever explain.

But she, perhaps better than anyone, understood.

* * *

TBC


	4. Pain Pt 3

Title: Invincible  
Author: Unknownsoldier42  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: Own not. Profit not. Sue not.  
Summary: In the end, no matter how much she didn't want to, she'd said no. Unable to stand, to breathe, and completely overwhelmed with fear she'd cried out. Like a weakling.  
A/N: JAG crossover

* * *

With an uncharacteristically sharp motion Temperance stirred awake. Startled by her sudden movement Booth reached out to steady her, but she didn't register him, her wide eyes were open but blank. She stared right through him and very soon was lost again to the dark depths of her dreams.

"It's okay," he assured her and picked up her hand again, "I'm here." His thumb returned to its previous business, soothing over her knuckles. In the few minutes he'd been in there he already knew every bruise and cut by heart. He could see the pattern, the story, behind each contusion. Her attacker had tried to break her, to beat her into submission. His whole body burned with a quietly restrained fury at the tale her abused body told. As much as it hurt to see her lovely skin marred, he was proud to also note that she had fought him back. _Hard_.

She tossed her head on the pillow and squeezed her eyes tight, then opened them again, this time noticing his presence in the room. So he smiled and gathered her hand more securely between both of his. "It's all right, you're okay."

"Booth?" She whispered, forehead bunching.

"Hey," he whispered back. Her small hand shifted in his grip, fingers now curling around his thumb. The familiar sensation made his stomach flip-flop and eyes well. His chest constricted painfully at the confused look gracing her bright features.

"What are you doing here?" Temperance's voice was breathy but strong, mostly it was rough.

"I came as soon as I heard," he clutched her hand tighter. His eyes were wet and hers, purple and swollen, were dry. "Did you think I wouldn't?"

"No," she answered without pause, her faith in him unwavering as always. "But what about your training in Dallas?"

"It doesn't matter, Bones, you are way more important than that stupid course." The bitterness in his tone had been building ever since he'd boarded the flight to DC. If he'd been here with her instead of off at some FBI field exercise bull shit none of it would have happened, of that he was sure. He'd thought it over a lot on the plane and he knew if he'd been with her the son of a bitch would never have laid a finger on her.

"Oh," was all she offered in response, perhaps picking up on his disgust with himself and misinterpreting. Her eyes closed again and his heart lurched sickeningly. _So much pain_.

"Angela is on her way," he said and watched her try to find the strength just to speak.

"Booth, she'll panic –" she paused to draw in a long, ragged breath. "She doesn't handle things like this… well."

He stood and moved to the bedside table, where a pitcher of water and some plastic cups sat. His hands shook as he filled one for her. When he lifted the cup to help her drink she quivered and then moaned softly.

"I'm okay," she promised him, tears slipping away from closed eyelids. Abruptly it happened upon him, all the fear and anger he'd been repressing, her small statement unearthed it all in one crushing blow. He was more afraid now then he'd ever been.

"You're not okay," Booth snarled, angry tears splashing against his shirt. "Look at you! Fuck."

He dropped back into his chair, face failing into hands, and barked out a sob.

High on narcotics the moment was still not lost on the woozy anthropologist who watched him with an amused expression. _I'm the one in the bed and he's having the meltdown_?

"I don't remember any of it," she said, watching him struggle to regain his shaky composure.

"I know," he scrubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes. "It will come back."

"Is that supposed to assuage me in some way? Does not knowing help me better than knowing, Booth? We both know the answer." It came out nastier than she wanted and instead of being upset with her, all she could see on his tired face was an understanding that only he could have. She started to cry, attempting to hold back the flood at first but then burst into the whole body hiccupping sobs of someone who has been holding it in for too long.

He was on the bed with her in an instant, cradling her close with his mouth buried in her hair. She moved the arm she could and held onto him just as tight, tried to burrow into the safety of his arms.

"I'm sorry, Temperance," he croaked into her ear and then kissed it. "I'm so, so sorry."

* * *

She was asleep again when he left the room, nearly running over a frantic Angela.

"Booth!" She exclaimed, and then clapped a hand over her mouth. He sighed and grabbed her biceps, backing her away from the room and the sleeping woman within.

"Angela, I was about to call you," he pressed down on her slim shoulders, silently urging her to sit in a nearby hospital chair. "She just fell back asleep."

"Oh my God, Booth!" Her big brown eyes were shining with tears and her nose was already pink like she'd been crying on the way over. "Is she okay? Tell me she's okay."

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, contemplating how much to tell her and how much to let her see herself. Her lower lip was trembling as he knelt down in front of her.

"She's okay, Ange, but I'm not going to lie to you, it's bad. It looks worse than it is, but it looks pretty fucking awful." He sighed again and wiped away the tears meandering down her pretty cheeks. "I need to go and take care of some things; can you please stay here with her, in case she wakes up?"

The artist nodded and sniffled, tissue magically appearing in her long fingers so she could dab her eyes. "Yeah, but where are you going? She's going to ask."

Booth smiled, "I'm going to go find out what happened. Listen, Bones is kind of teetering right now, the meds and the stress you know? So I need you, Angela, to be tough for her. _She _needs you to."

She nodded again and blew her nose. He kissed her forehead and with one last quick glance at the room left the hospital.

He had answers to find.

* * *

TBC


	5. Pain Pt 4

Title: Invincible  
Author: Unknownsoldier42  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: Own not. Profit not. Sue not.  
Summary: In the end, no matter how much she didn't want to, she'd said no. Unable to stand, to breathe, and completely overwhelmed with fear she'd cried out. Like a weakling.  
A/N: JAG crossover

* * *

Sarah was knee deep in the Bedke case file when a sharp knock sounded at her door. She frowned over at the clock and then double checked her watch. _Jesus, where does the time get to_? "Harm?" she called, figuring only he would dare bother her this late.

"It's Booth," came the reply.

Startled she sat there, pen dangling from her fingers and a million questions on her tongue. "Booth?"

"Yeah, FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth, need me to spell that?"

Sarcasm, definitely Booth, she dropped her pen and stood to answer the door, unease creeping into the corner of her mind.

"Is Tempe okay?" Sarah peeked through the peephole and confirmed the tired, rain-soaked visitor's identity. He squinted back at her.

"She's fine, Mac, will you open the door please?" He sighed.

She quickly un-did the locks and he slithered inside, dripping water all over. An eyebrow arched as she took in his appearance and the result of it on her carpet. He had the decency to look sheepish.

"Sorry, do you have a towel?" He headed for the kitchen as he spoke, making her wonder how he knew where it was. She followed him and he was already reaching into various drawers. "Sorry," he repeated.

Mac wanted to laugh at him but felt that now would not be a good time, so she just slid past him and pulled out a hand towel. His quiet thank you was almost lost in the towel as he pressed it to his face.

"You're welcome," she murmured back, curious now – more so than before – as to why he was calling on her so late. "Booth, what are you doing here?"

He tossed the now sodden towel into the sink, "I need you to walk me through what happened, Mac."

She'd been expecting this, but it didn't make it any easier to tell him. "I'm not sure what more I can tell you."

"I've been over the police report," he said and let his weight fall back on her counter. "Now I need to hear it from you."

Mac stared at him, sopping wet, slumped against her counter, and felt a sudden wave of pity. "Do you want some tea? Coffee?"

"A glass of water?" A ghost of his charming grin stretched his face briefly.

She got him the water, then watched him take a sip, as though hoping the water would make him forget his questions. He caught her eye again and set the water down with a deafeningly soft 'thunk'.

"He nearly beat her to death, Sarah."

"Yes, I know!" she snapped, then closed her eyes and let a heavy sigh past her lips. "I was _there_."

He was a patient man, a sniper, she knew all about him and his kind. She was a Marine and he was Army, but they knew the same tricks – knew how to read each other. She could imagine just how terrifying he could be to someone who didn't know, couldn't see what she did. She opened her eyes up slowly and the intensity in his eyes was boring holes in her. But his face was soft, sad, and she would swear on a stack of Bibles that he looked like a lost puppy. After reading MSG Booth's file, knowing what she did, seeing him like this made her breath hitch painfully.

"Please?" He said, and it was all he had to say but he wasn't done. "I need to know. You _know_ I need to know."

So she nodded and gestured limply for him to leave the kitchen. He trudged into her living room, socks squelching in his shoes, and pluncked down in her desk chair. She swallowed a sigh as he got water on everything, but held her tongue and sat opposite him on the couch.

"I left to get my briefcase," she started where it seemed logical. "Tempe's been helping me with a case, we found a Petty Officer, or I should say we found most of her, shoved into an alley behind a popular bar for squids on liberty."

Booth looked down at his hands, folded together in his lap, then over at the various papers scattered across the desk. "The Black Cat?"

She didn't even bat an eye, "Yes. Tempe ID'd the body for us, I was coming over that night to go over some new evidence and forgot my briefcase. When I came back in her office was trashed and she was – "

He bowed his head and stared at his feet for awhile, tempting her to reach out and touch him.

"Do you have any idea who it could've been?" He finally asked.

"No. Not at all," she seemed to be saying that a lot. "Harm thinks the accomplice but we can't narrow it down any further and the Seaman we have in custody couldn't have done it."

Now he seemed to be purposefully avoiding eye contact, so she studied the set of his jaw, and what of his facial expression she could see. Something was up, of that she was sure.

"Booth?"

"Yes?" There, he turned, and the coldness of his gaze froze her in place.

"It doesn't make it right," she said, knowing he would understand. A muscle twitched hard in his jaw.

"You don't even know what I'm going to do," he said and stood.

"Don't I?" She responded, and searched his face. She could see it there – the same rage, and weariness that was as familiar to her as her own reflection. "Don't I, Booth?"

He was still, swaying a little, but mostly very still. The moment stretched between them, staring at each other, both knowing without saying what was happening when he left.

"Can I have another glass of water?" He asked.

She got it for him, taking her time to fill the glass to the brim, even adding a couple of cubes of ice. When she came out of the kitchen he was standing exactly where he had been, still swaying to his own breeze.

He drank half the glass, said a thank you that sounded genuine and then turned to leave. She started to close the door behind him and his hand suddenly appeared between the jam and the door, his face peered at her through the crack.

"Sarah?" This time he waited for her to catch his eyes, and she nearly drowned in the sincerity radiating from them. "It's not your fault."

Then he was gone.

* * *

TBC


End file.
